


What's wrong with it?

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 11:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: Illya's tailoring is not up to Napoleon's standards





	What's wrong with it?

 

**What’s wrong with it?**

“That colour really doesn’t suit you, chum,” his partner grumbled, “I don’t think you do my image any good. I’ll have to walk a pace behind you.”

“As is right and proper, my friend. Anyway, what’s wrong with it?”

“You’re blond, you’ve got blue eyes. You should wear grey or black – but not that.”

“I have a burgundy one, will that do?”

“Jeez, no!”

“Red and purple stripes?”

“!!”

His partner’s anguished expression made him laugh. “Only kidding. I haven’t got one.”

“Listen, little renegade, there’s a tailor just around the corner. We can go there and, just for once, you can order something bespoke.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“Am, too. It’s time I took you in hand. You’re a mess.”

“I like me just the way I am, thanks.”

“While we’re at it, you can order a proper tux, too, and stop borrowing those ill-fitting garments from HQ.”

The blond, blue-eyed, now somewhat irritated agent threw up his hands and turned to face his dark-haired, elegantly attired, long-standing, and long-suffering partner. “You can go too far, my brown-eyed boy,” he snapped. “I don’t choose to waste my hard-earned salary on personal adornment.”

“I’m well aware of that!” They glared at each other, and it might have developed into quite a snit if they hadn’t suddenly caught the little deprecating quirk in each other’s brow. There were few people around, fortunately, to see them jabbing and dodging round each other, laughing helplessly.

“Nevertheless,” said brown-eyes, as they recovered, “there is a tailor just here, and we’re going in,” and taking his friend by the arm, he marched him in.

A little round ball of a man bounced towards them beaming.

“Gentlemen, how can I be of assistance?” He cooed.

“My friend here, needs a coat and a tuxedo.”

“So I see, sir,” he said tactlessly, walking round examining the offending garment, quite unaware of the impending volcanic eruption that threatened his existence. “A very fine figure, if I may say so, sir. I’ll need to take your measurements,” he said, ushering the volcano into a cubicle.

There was silence for a while, then came an angry squawk of dismay. A high-pitched musical cry of alarm announced the eruption, and, preceded by an outpouring of hot rage, the volcano emerged flushed and furious.

“That’s it! I’m going.” And he swept out.

His friend looked at the deflating ball, and said “What happened?”

“I was taking his inside leg measurement, sir, and he seemed to take it amiss,” he said brokenly.

“I’m sorry. Maybe he’s ticklish. Another time, perhaps.”

“Yes, sir. Anything I can do for you, sir?”

“Another time, but I’ll surely be back.”

“Thank you, sir.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> LJ Short Affair challenge


End file.
